


Logistics of Traveling with Werewolves

by SylvieW



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Conference, Future Fic, Hale Family Backstory, M/M, Masturbation, Nothing you haven’t read before, Oblivious Stiles, Pining, Scent Marking, Why do they always end up so cheesy?, bed sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 03:57:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11096409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylvieW/pseuds/SylvieW
Summary: The pack attends the National Werewolf Association Conference for the first time since they got their shit together. Derek doesn’t like being away from home, or facing people from his past. Stiles does his best to help out… without letting his feelings get in the way. It's harder than he thought since they’re sharing not only a hotel room, but a bed.





	Logistics of Traveling with Werewolves

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my beta team, lead by the talented [ChloeWeird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChloeWeird)!

********

The first time Derek mentioned the conference, it was a full year at least after they’d met him. They’d kicked alpha pack butt, Erica and Boyd had realized they didn’t want to leave as badly as they'd thought, Derek had stopped being tensed for attack _all the time_ , Scott agreed that having an alpha wouldn’t be so bad, and Lydia had jumped into the supernatural with Jackson’s furry ass in tow. 

Things had been fairly calm. Nothing was actively attacking them, and no one in the pack was fighting with each other. Stiles was working on actual homework instead of researching vague things like _green slime that burns_ , or _how to banish elves NOT THE CUTE KIND._

He was nearly finished but so bored he knew he’d have to take a break soon, when Derek hurtled through Stiles’ bedroom window, because he was too freaking awkward to use the door and said, “Can you type this?”

“What is it?” Stiles reached out a hand blindly and opened a new document. 

“It’s my formal RSVP declining to attend the NWA Conference,” Derek explained. 

“The what?” Stiles said, skimming over the words. It was in fact a handwritten page explaining that the Alpha Hale and Beacon Hills pack would not be attending this year, but would like to continue receiving information and future invitations from the 'NWA,' whatever that was.

“National Werewolf Association,” Derek explained. “No one ever says that in writing, though. That would be stupid.”

“No shit,” Stiles said. “There’s an association of werewolves? They have a conference? Why aren’t we going?” 

Stiles needled Derek with questions the entire time he was typing--and editing--the letter. He was trying to collect as much information on the supernatural as possible, so on one hand, the idea of a conference full of people with experience he could learn from was amazing. On the other hand, there had been a lot of werewolves who’d tried to kill him, so having a very large group of them all together, posturing and schmoozing, made him a bit nervous.

It didn’t really matter because Derek had decided they weren’t ready. He started passing out the newsletters that the NWA sent him, but he didn’t agree to go to the conference until three years later.

The annual conference was being held in San Francisco in July, so they wouldn’t have to worry about flights, or the pack members who were in college missing school. Scott and Allison would stay behind and guard the territory, because really, retired or not, only idiots would bring an Argent to a werewolf conference. 

Stiles and Lydia pored over the schedule, digging past the innocuous titles of the talks, panels, and workshops to what they really were, and deciding who should attend what. Derek was a mess of nerves about the whole thing, so Lydia convinced him to let her take care of all the logistics. He called her his General and handed over his credit card.

In retrospect, Stiles thought maybe he should have kept an eye on what Lydia was planning. They’d only just entered the hotel, and Derek was already about to lose his shit.

“This isn’t right,” Derek said, scowling at the key cards he’d been given. “There's only supposed to be two rooms. Two adjoining rooms with two doubles each.”

“I’m so sorry, sir, our records have you down for a standard double and two standard king rooms,” the receptionist said. “I can try and find something else, but we’ve been booked for a--”

“Conference.” Derek barely kept the non-human growl from his voice.

The poor woman was starting to look pale. Stiles was going to tell her it was fine and drag Derek away when Lydia said, “No, this is right.”

Derek barely looked at her. “What.”

Lydia started distributing keys. “One room for Erica and Boyd, one room for Jackson and I, one room for you, Stiles, and Isaac.”

“That’s not what we decided." Derek refused to take his key, as if the situation wouldn’t be happening if he just didn’t touch it. 

“That’s not what _you_ decided,” Lydia said. “But there is no way I’m passing up the opportunity to have hotel sex. We’re all adults, Derek, there's no need to pile into the same room.” She slapped the key against his chest, forcing him to either take it or let it drop to the floor. “The rooms are right next to each other anyway. You’ll be fine.” She sailed off to badger the bellboy in charge of their luggage.

“Okay?” Stiles asked.

“Whatever,” Derek said. He shoved the key into his back pocket and ushered them toward the elevators.

The welcome dinner wasn’t until seven o’clock^ so they had lots of time to get settled in. Derek immediately claimed the bed closest to the door. Isaac tossed his bag on the other bed and flopped down across it.

“Um,” Stiles started. 

Derek’s eyebrows said, _What?_

“Where am I sleeping?” Stiles asked.

Isaac scrunched up his nose and tried to take up as much room as possible. Apparently, he didn’t have to, because Derek said, “Here,” pointing to the opposite side of his own bed. He even glared at Isaac like he thought he might challenge him on it.

“Okay,” Stiles said slowly, and stepped closer.

Derek took the top blanket off the bed and shoved it into the corner of the room. Stiles made himself busy getting out the nicer clothes he’d brought and assessing their wrinkles.

The shirt went limp in his hands as he watched Derek roll very, very slowly over the whole bed. He looked at Isaac and raised his eyebrow in question. Isaac rolled his eyes and shrugged. 

Stiles ignored Isaac and asked, “Derek? Whatcha doin’?”

Derek started rubbing his hands over the pillows. “Hotels reek of other people's scents. The sheets at least get washed, but there's the mattress, the pillows, the disgusting cover--”

“Gotcha,” Stiles said. “So you’re making it smell less like other people and more like you.”

“More like pack,” he said, and hopped off the bed to usher Stiles over and onto the bed. “Roll.”

“Seriously?” Stiles asked. Derek didn’t say anything, he just crossed his arms and huffed. Stiles sighed and started to roll. Derek had control issues, that was a fact, and he’d majorly lost control of the rooming situation. Stiles could give a little of it back by doing this. It was actually a little bit fun, like being a kid again jumping around while his parents unpacked. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to tease Derek about it. “Okay, alpha, here I go, rubbing my scent all over. Does that make your wolfy nose feel better?”

Derek jumped on top of him and dug his fingers into Stiles’ sides where he knew he was most ticklish. They wrestled for a bit, then froze when Isaac said, “You two are so weird.”

Stiles had kind of forgotten he was there. He cleared his throat as Derek rolled off the bed. “You’re just jealous,” Stiles said breezily. They went back to their respective tasks of making the room theirs. At five, Derek made Stiles go through the full itinerary with him again, even though he already knew all the events they planned to attend. At six, they took turns in the washroom for last minute grooming and changing, then knocked on the door of the other two rooms.

The whole pack went down together and got their information packets and name tags, then were ushered into the grand ballroom, which had been set up for the dinner. Packs from all across the country were gathering around the tables, greeting old friends and nodding to acquaintances.

Derek tugged Stiles a little closer to him, and Stiles rolled his eyes. Derek always got a little extra protective of him when there were other supernatural creatures around. They’d fought before about how he never did the same to Allison, or Lydia even she was essentially human. Derek could never quite explain it to Stiles’ satisfaction.

They found their table and Derek sent Boyd and Isaac to get drinks for everyone. Erica pouted at being left behind while Jackson smirked. 

“Did you settle in alright?” Lydia asked sweetly. 

Derek completely stonewalled her.

Lydia gave her hair a toss with a jerky irritated motion. “Derek, don’t pout. It’s better this way.”

Stiles had always been fascinated by how much Derek’s face could say without him saying a word. At the moment it was uttering, _You betrayed me and you’ll be punished for it._

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” Lydia said.

“Oh? And what other changes did you make without telling me because they _weren’t a big deal_?” Derek said.

“Alpha Hale?” 

An older woman approached their table and Derek stood to greet her. She spent a while talking about how much he’d grown and how cute a child he had been while Derek pasted his fake smile on. By the time she’d left, Isaac and Boyd had returned and the welcome speeches were starting.

They made it through the opening ceremony and the dinner without any incidents. People kept coming by to say hello, most of whom Stiles didn’t know, but a few he’d been in contact with over the years. The food was finished and everyone was just socializing now, so they split up to make the rounds themselves. Derek and Stiles were halfway across the ballroom when Derek stopped in his tracks.

“Oh, no,” he said. Derek had the same look of dread that he did when old ladies came up to him in the store. Something Stiles had noticed about Derek was that he’d rather face a whole pack of gremlins than spend two minutes fake smiling while someone talked about _what good people his family were_ and how it was _just such a shame, really_ that they were all dead. 

“What?” Stiles bristled at his side. He looked around quickly and found a young man walking through the crowd, intent on reaching them. “Who’s that?”

“Brandon Wyle,” Derek hissed. “We stayed with his pack after the fire for a while. He and Laura were in college together. He wanted to marry her.”

“Shit,” Stiles said. Brandon might start waxing poetic about Laura, and Derek would want to crawl right out of his skin. Or maybe the opposite, Stiles didn’t know what they’d do if Brandon insulted Laura instead. He didn't have time to think about it before Brandon reached them, offering his hand. 

“Derek, it’s good to see you again,” Brandon said. “And this is?”

“Stiles Stilinski,” Stiles said, offering his hand. “Good to meet you.”

“Brandon Wyle, same here,” he responded with a genuine smile. It faltered a little when he turned back to Derek. “Is Laura here this year? I didn’t see her, and I know some packs just send their seconds.”

There was an awkward pause while they all waited for Derek to reply, but no words came.

“I’m so sorry,” Stiles blurted out. “But Laura died three years ago.”

All the blood fled from Brandon’s face, and Stiles winced, stepping a little closer in case he passed out.

“I’m--I--Did she--” Brandon tried but he couldn’t get any farther than that. He took a step back from them, but jerked to a halt. His face was a mess of different emotions warring against each other. 

“We won’t be offended if you need to walk away and process this privately,” Stiles said. “We can talk about it another time if you need to, or we’ll just pretend this didn’t happen.”

“I--” Brandon swallowed, nodded and fled the room. Stiles was about to start looking for the Wyle pack when he saw someone rushing after Brandon already.

“Well, that was horrible,” Stiles said. Derek grunted in agreement. “I think that might have used up all your social interaction capabilities for the night. Upstairs?”

“Upstairs.” They caught Lydia’s eye as they left so she wouldn’t be looking for them and made their way back to their room. Derek toed off his shoes and flopped onto the bed with a groan.

“That sucked ass,” Stiles said. “Is that going to happen all week?”

“God, I hope not,” Derek said. “I thought he would have heard by now.”

“Thought he would? You didn’t tell him yourself?” Stiles paced the room tugging his hair. “You didn’t call and tell your sister’s fiancé she was fucking murdered?”

“First of all, I said he wanted to marry her, not that they were engaged. Second, Laura and I only had one phone, and it was never released from evidence. I didn’t have his number memorized. Third, I was kind of focused on other things at the time.” Derek grabbed one of the pillows and threw it at Stiles’ head.

Stiles grabbed the pillow and smacked Derek with it. “That didn’t clarify anything.” He snagged a pillow from Isaac’s bed before he crawled onto theirs and flipped onto his back. “Start from the top, tell me what happened.”

Stiles understood that it was never easy for Derek to talk about his family and what had happened to them. Painful memories made him clam up and he hated feeling vulnerable in front of people. But sometimes, Stiles really believed he needed to share things, either for the information they held, or his own emotional wellbeing. They’d discovered Derek could manage that best if they laid down together, sides touching, but not looking at each other. All the most important conversations they’d had happened like this. The ones that had furthered their friendship just as much if not more than the times they’d nearly died together.

Derek shifted onto his back. “You know after the fire, we went to New York. Laura was in college there, and the Wyle pack had welcomed her during the semester, so she thought the safest thing to do was go to them. We stayed while Laura finished her degree, then she started at the Wyles’ firm. Brandon was in her class. They were together, and I think they really loved each other. They were doing well in their careers, Brandon’s father was training him to be the next alpha. Brandon wanted to take their relationship further. But if Laura married Brandon, that would mean there was no more Hale pack.”

Stiles pictured Derek’s tattoo, and considered how much Derek’s heritage meant to him. If Laura cared about it half as much as he did, that wasn’t a choice she’d make lightly.

“I don’t know exactly what was said or decided between them, but Laura told me she needed time, and we started driving,” Derek said. “Not long after that, the problems in Beacon Hills started. I don’t know what she would have decided. I don’t know if he was waiting for her.”

“It’ll be better for him now that he knows,” Stiles said. “If he was waiting, he can start to move on.”

“Is it worse that he’ll never know if she would have come back?” Derek asked.

“I don’t know,” Stiles said honestly. “Tell me about his pack, about what it was like with them.”

Derek told him about bitter New York winters, teaming up with Laura to throw snowballs at Brandon’s head. He told him about how soft Brandon’s mother’s hugs were, her whole soft demeanour so at odds with his own mother’s. And how Derek felt like he hadn’t deserved it. 

When their pack came in, they got off the bed, and Stiles hugged Derek. Derek had resisted that part of the ritual at first, until Stiles convinced him it was as much for his benefit as Derek’s.

Stiles gave the pack a brief explanation of what had happened while Derek was in the bathroom getting ready for the night. He managed to get them all sitting on the bed, which was worth it from the twitch of a smile he got when Derek came out, and the way he softened towards Lydia.

***

Stiles was pretty sure it was after a harpy attack that they’d finally admitted they all recovered better from a fight if they were together. When the frantic energy of _Holy shit we're not dead_ wore off, they’d pile into the biggest bed they could find and sleep like the dead.

They’d done this enough times over the years that Stiles had a list of things he’d come to expect: 

\-- Jackson had to be in the middle, with Lydia’s front against one side, and Derek’s back against the other.

\-- Erica’s feet would seek out the warmest place possible, which was usually uncomfortably close to someone’s balls.

\-- Scott would end up hitting the floor with a loud thump, because he wouldn’t hear of Allison sleeping at the edge of the bed, in case _she_ fell off.

\-- Derek would wrap his arm around Stiles’ waist, and hold on like a python.

Stiles had accepted the inevitability of these events, and in some cases, if he was really honest with himself, looked forward to them. He liked seeing signs of Jackson’s vulnerability, to remind them all of how far they’d come. He could laugh at Erica’s wandering feet, because as a human, he had the lowest body temperature. The indulgent smile on Allison’s face as she looked down at Scott, sprawled on the floor, made him think of his parents. The heavy weight of Derek’s arm grounded him until he didn’t feel so much like he was about to float away.

What he didn’t realize was that even when the pack wasn’t around them, Derek would still end up wrapped around Stiles as he slept. 

Stiles woke up in their hotel room with that same safe and anchored feeling. The warmth of Derek’s body flush against his back should have held the same comfort it always did, but it didn’t. It took on a different kind of heat, one that made Stiles want to moan and press back.

Instead, he took a deep breath, allowing himself one moment to imagine Derek holding him because he wanted him back rather than because of some unconscious pack instinct. He wiggled out from under Derek’s arm and padded as softly as he could into the bathroom. 

It took him a while to figure out how to work the shower without burning himself, but he managed eventually, stepping under the hot spray. The water was harder than he’d like, but not so hard it hurt. Derek had left shampoo and body wash in the corner, so Stiles made use of those instead of the mini bottles of peppermint sludge that the hotel left. He didn’t really have a preference, but Derek tended to wrinkle his nose anytime Stiles switched soap brands.

The problem with using Derek’s soap was that it made the shower smell like Derek. That wasn’t exactly helping to diminish the early morning semi he had going on. Combined with the unexpected cuddle session he’d woken up to, Stiles knew he’d have to make the decision between turning the shower to cold or taking care of it more directly. 

He used a still soapy hand to give himself a few experimental tugs. That soon led to his other hand brushing against his nipple, and he bit back a moan picturing a different pair of hands on him, imagining a stubbled cheek brushing against his neck and red eyes flashing possessively. 

Stiles startled at three loud thumps on the door. “Jesus, Stilinski, you're in a hotel full of werewolves!” Isaac complained.

“Get lost, Lahey,” Stiles shouted back. He growled in frustration, because his mood was shattered and there was no chance he’d be able to get comfortable enough again. He’d accepted that his pack could smell sex on him, but that still didn’t make him an exhibitionist. He cursed Isaac as he switched the shower to frigid.

***

When Stiles came out of the shower, he found that Isaac was gone but Derek was still there. He’d gotten dressed, then sprawled over the bed. 

“Breakfast?” Derek asked, not bothering to look over at him. 

“I still have to get dressed. But after that, sure,” Stiles said.

Derek shrugged. “I’ll wait.” 

They came late enough to the breakfast the conference provided that there wasn’t much of a line for the buffet. A normal person might consider it an outrageous amount of food, but anyone familiar with werewolves would see the necessity of three pans of sausage alone. 

Plates filled, Stiles spotted Lydia’s hair first and nudged Derek in that direction. Derek tensed beside him and Stiles hissed, “What?”

“They’re sitting with the Wyle pack,” Derek said. 

“Neato,” Stiles said. He didn’t know Brandon’s pack well enough to know if that was good or bad, and Derek’s statement didn’t give him much to go on. Lydia caught sight of them and waved them over. Derek didn’t say anything more, but the tension hadn’t left his body.

“Derek, it’s good to see you again,” said a perky brunette.

“You too, Vivian,” Derek mumbled as he was ushered into a chair.

“Here, you can have my seat.” The guy jumped up from the chair next to Derek and held it out for Stiles.

“You don’t have to do that,” Stiles said quickly, at the same time Derek said, “Thanks, Troy,” and grabbed Stiles’ plate from his hand, placing it in front of the chair. Stiles sat down very slowly while staring at Derek. There was no need for Derek to insist they sit together unless he was being overly possessive again. Stiles still couldn’t tell if they were facing an actual threat, or just Derek’s usual aversion to people and obsession with Stiles’ fragility. Either way, Derek’s agitation decreased when Stiles settled beside him.

“So, did you have plans for any particular lectures or workshops?” Vivian asked, leaning toward Derek.

Derek quickly shoved some food in his mouth and looked pleadingly at Stiles. 

“Oh, yeah, we’ve got our game plan all mapped out,” Stiles told her. They had a pleasant discussion about what they were looking forward to the most, and even adapted their plans after a few recommendations.

Brandon joined them partway through the meal, offering a hesitant smile as he did. Before they could leave after they finished eating he caught Derek’s arm. “Could we talk privately later?”

“Sure,” Derek said. 

'Privately' turned out to include Stiles, and after a full day of lectures and networking, he and Derek met Brandon in a coffee shop down the street from the hotel. It afforded them a bit more security from werewolf ears that might eavesdrop on a sensitive subject. Laura’s death was no secret, but they didn’t want to feed any gossips that might be attending the conference. 

“Thanks for meeting with me,” Brandon said, setting down the drinks he’d insisted on paying for.”

“No problem,” Derek said gruffly. “What did you want to…Meet about?”

“Stiles said it would be alright to talk after I had some time to process,” Brandon said. “I hadn’t heard about Laura’s death, obviously and…well, to be honest, I think I was still waiting for her to come back.”

Derek scratched at the label of his cup. “I don’t really know what she had decided^ if that’s what you needed to know.”

“I’m not sure,” Brandon said honestly. “Maybe you could just…Where did you two go? When did she...How?”

Talking about Laura was hard for Derek. Stiles filled in where he could, but they were both exhausted by the end of the night. Brandon looked a little less shattered though, so Stiles thought it was worth it. Brandon was patient with them, and didn’t push Derek. He seemed to have an understanding of Derek’s gruff demeanor and spoke briefly but with fondness of the time they spent together. 

“She loved you,” Derek said as they were leaving the coffee shop. “That’s what made the choice so hard. She really loved you.”

Brandon gripped Derek’s shoulder and gave it a brotherly shake. “Thank you for that.”

***

Three days into the week-long conference, Stiles was crawling out of his skin. They were making great connections with other packs, especially the Wyle pack, and the agenda was interesting, but Stiles was frustrated. He missed his apartment, and his bed. He missed not having to worry about being overheard every second of the day.

He was on a mid-morning break, so he decided to call Scott to check in. After filling him in on the conference, he asked how Scott’s week was going. “Well…” Scott started, and Stiles’ heartbeat sped up, concerned there had been an attack while they were gone. “You know how I thought it would be cool to spend the week in Derek’s house?”

“Uh huh,” Stiles said. Derek had gutted the old Hale house, and spared no expense to turn it into a fortress of protection and comfort for the pack. He was the only one who officially lived there, but everyone had a room that they’d crash in often.

“Well, with everyone gone, Allison and I were going to have a lot of...quality time,” Scott said, and Stiles could envision his fingers making air quotes. “But I keep feeling like he’s going to walk in any minute and give us shit for sullying his countertop.”

“You already sullied his countertop. It was a traumatic experience for everyone involved,” Stiles pointed out. 

“I know, I just didn’t realize how much of the house really reflects him,” Scott said. “It’s like creeping around waiting for your parents to get home.”

“So you aren’t having Scott and Allison ‘Quality Time’?” Stiles asked.

“Of course we are. It’s just not as sexy as I thought it would be,” Scott said.

Stiles snorted. “At least you’ve still got something. I haven’t jerked off in days.” Scott laughed over the line. “It’s not funny, Scott, I have needs. Needs that are not being seen to because I never get a moment’s peace. Every time I even think about it, a werewolf and their stupid nose and goddamn ears shows up. Count your blessings, Scotty. I don’t know how I’m going to last to the end of the week. My dick needs some serious attention.”

The strangled cough behind him made Stiles freeze. 

“Hi Derek,” he said as Scott howled with laughter. Stiles promptly hung up the phone. “How was the presentation?”

Derek nodded like a bobble head, then lurched forward to add his notes to the growing pile on the desk. “Good.”

“Good. Great. Awesome,” Stiles said. Derek grabbed his duffle bag and disappeared into the bathroom. Stiles flopped down onto the bed and groaned into his pillow.

“I’m going for a run,” Derek announced, re-emerging from the bathroom dressed in basketball shorts and a soft t-shirt. “Isaac is at that panel about abuse?”

Stiles nodded. “Recognizing signs without the physical evidence.” Isaac was a social worker, and he said it was hard enough to see the signs in some cases, with werewolves, any bruises would be gone in moments, and they’d rarely come in contact with medical staff trained to watch for other red flags. He’d been looking forward to the panel since he’d read the professional development portion of the agenda.

“Yeah,” Derek said slowly. “So he won’t be back for a few hours at least. I’m going running.”

“You said that already,” Stiles pointed out.

“Right.” Derek gave Stiles a very long pointed look. “It’s gonna be a really, really long run.”

“Have fun?” Stiles said, reaching for his phone. He wished he’d let himself bring his tablet, but reading on this would have to do. He could use this time to take care of certain needs but Derek would probably kill him when he got back from his run. It would be nice to have a little privacy anyway. 

Derek started toward the door, then stopped abruptly. He hesitated before returning to sit on the bed. “Have you seen the new Spiderman costume concepts?”

“No!” Stiles sat up excitedly. Derek took his phone from him briefly, then handed it back, watching Stiles’ face with a steady gaze. “Derek, this isn’t concept art, it’s fan art.” Really sexy fan art. Extremely realistic fan art of really great asses in tight spandex and some tantalizing side views thrown in. The kind of mix that was guaranteed to get Stiles hot and bothered.

“Oops,” Derek said, his expression blank. “My mistake.” Then he bolted from the room.

Stiles stared after him as the door thunked shut, then flopped onto the bed with an exasperated sigh. It didn’t matter how many years had passed, Derek was still a weirdo.

He grabbed his phone and considered calling Scott back, but decided against it. Stiles wiggled farther onto the bed, but he couldn’t get comfortable enough for a nap, or settle in to read.

Minutes ticked by, and Stiles started getting distracted by his suitcase. It wasn’t so much the suitcase itself, as what was inside it. Stiles had taken to bringing an emergency kit with him everywhere he went. It had a lot of things in it: bandaids, mountain ash, and pain killers among them. It also had lube. It paid to be prepared.

Combined with the knowledge that Derek would be out running for an hour or two at least, and Isaac was gone for the afternoon, and factoring in the pictures Derek just showed him, that little bottle was calling out like a siren.

“No,” Stiles told himself, rolling to face away from his bag. There was no question that his temporary roommates would be able to smell it when they got back. Isaac would bitch for the rest of the week that he’d been made to think about Stiles in a sex way, and Derek would bitch if they had to have the sheets changed. (His battle with housekeeping was endlessly amusing to Stiles.) 

“Huh,” Stiles said to the empty room.

Derek hadn’t wanted housekeeping to take the towels, but Isaac wanted new ones everyday, so Derek had started hiding his in drawers. The maid had responded by giving them enough for a whole extra person. If he grabbed one and covered the bed with it, he could get rid of it when he was finished. Between Derek's towel hoarding and Isaac's obsession with getting new ones, they had a couple extra, which he could get rid of once he was finished using it.

Decision made, Stiles jumped off the bed, anxious to start so he could make the most of his time before Derek returned. If this was the only personal time he would get this week, he wasn’t going to waste it.

Towel and lube collected, Stiles stripped out of his clothes and stretched out on the bed. The snick of the lube bottle sent a shiver down his spine and he poured a dollop into his hand to warm before sliding it over his half-hardened cock.

He briefly considered grabbing his phone and trying to find that fan art again, but there was no telling how long that would take, and he was in the mood for something less structured. He let his mind and his hand wander. And if a lot of the things that came to mind included an aggressively muscled body pressing into his and dark stubble leaving burns against his thighs, well, no one needed to know.

Since he had the lube out anyway, it only made sense to slick up his fingers again and reach a little farther down. Stiles’ breath hitched as he circled his rim, coaxing it into letting his fingers inside. He let himself draw out the build toward orgasm the way he liked, savoured every moment and refused to rush even when his wrist started to ache from the angle and his muscles quivered. It made it all the sweeter when he came and could lie on the bed dazed, sated and relaxed.

Eventually, his phone buzzed, and he had to wipe off his hands to tell Derek, yes, he would like a coffee from the Starbucks across the street. Stiles reluctantly got out of bed and started cleaning up. He brought the towel right into the shower with him and gave himself a quick but thorough rinse. 

Stiles stepped out of the steamy bathroom and bit back a yelp, at the sight of Derek lying across the bed. The bed Stiles had just jerked off on. _Right next to_ where he’d jerked off.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asked.

“I didn’t realize you were back already,” Stiles said. He’d become an expert years ago in the art of lying to werewolves. The trick was to say something that was true. Vague and usually beside the point, but true. He _hadn’t_ realized Derek was back, but that wasn’t what caused his surprise so much as Derek’s current position. He'd thought he’d at least have a little time for the bed to air out before Derek got into it. 

“Hm,” Derek said, pushing himself up to sit, and slide further over to Stiles’ part of the bed. “I got you your thing.” He held out the cup to Stiles, looking at the green siren in disdain.

Stiles knew Derek was perfectly capable of saying venti caffe americano because he had to order the drink somehow, but he refused to do it in front of anyone. Stiles was frequently tempted to get something outlandish like a triple venti half-sweet non-fat caramel macchiato just to annoy him, but then he’d have to drink it. 

“Thanks.” Stiles accepted the drink and swirled it in his hand to make sure the sugar was distributed, wondering if he could get away with spilling some on the floor so that the place would smell more like coffee than sex.

Derek dropped back onto the mattress and wiggled around to get comfortable. Stiles took a deep gulp of his coffee. Derek’s shirt was stretched tight against his chest, and he was still glistening with sweat from his run. If Stiles hadn’t just jerked off, he’d be in trouble right now.

“Where’s your drink?” Stiles asked.

Derek stilled then gave an awkward shrug. “I finished it.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes and leaned over Derek. “Did you go into Starbucks just to get me a drink?”

“No, of course not,” Derek said quickly, then rolled over on the bed to reach the other side before standing. “I’m going to shower before Isaac gets back and then we’ll go for dinner.”

“Uh huh,” Stiles said. “Thanks for the drink, alpha.” He smirked as he saw Derek’s ears turn red. Derek liked to provide for his pack. Stiles liked to tease him about it.

***

Dinner time was fast approaching with no sign of Isaac. Stiles and Derek both texted him, but no response came.

“If we don’t go down soon, we’ll miss dinner,” Stiles said.

Derek sighed but grabbed his key card off the desk. They kept looking around the dining room all through their meal but Isaac didn’t appear. When they asked the others, they said they hadn’t seen him since he’d left for his lecture.

Derek paced around the hotel room, ears straining to pick up any sounds in the hallway.

“I’m sure it's nothing,” Stiles said. “He probably got caught up in an interesting discussion and didn’t want to leave.”

“Yeah, of course,” Derek said, but he didn’t look any more relaxed. “Knowing him^ he found someone to hook up with.” Neither of them mentioned the fact that, if that was the case, he could have texted them that he wouldn’t be back. They passed a few hours going over their notes from events they hadn’t attended together. Stiles was ready to turn in for the night, and Isaac still hadn’t returned. 

Stiles convinced Derek to get ready for bed, but after lying down, they both sat staring at the door. Stiles patted Derek’s shoulder and said, “Get some rest.” He grabbed his phone off the nightstand and dialed Isaac’s number. As soon as it went to voicemail he hung up and dialed again. 

“What are you doing?” Derek asked.

“Calling,” Stiles said, hanging up and re-dialing again.

“I thought we said he probably just got lucky,” Derek said.

“We did, which is most likely true,” Stiles agreed. He called again anyway, and Derek didn’t stop him.

Around the sixteenth call, Isaac picked up with a growled, “What the hell, Stiles?”

“Are you hurt?” Stiles asked.

“What?”

“Are you injured?” Stiles repeated slowly. “Because if you’re not, when I get my hands on you, you will be in a world of pain.”

Derek pried the phone out of Stiles’ hand. “Where are you?” There was a series of pauses, grunts, and agreements before he hung up the phone. “He met someone at his lecture and they ‘connected’. They went out for dinner and were in the middle of something when you called.”

“Good,” Stiles said, wiggling down to lie on the bed. “I hope I ruined the mood. I hope that it’s awkward, and that she doesn’t even give him a pity blowjob because she’s so not into it.”

The corner of Derek’s mouth twitched up. “Let’s get some sleep.” He pulled Stiles over to be his teddy bear, and neither of them mentioned how tight they held on, or the relief that simmered under the irritation.

***

As soon as Stiles woke up the next day, he sent out a mass text to the pack telling them to meet in the hotel room. Enough was enough. He hadn’t had a chance to corner them without Derek around, what with how close they’d been sticking to each other and how busy the schedule was, but Isaac’s disappearance was the last straw. The pack was reluctant at first, but after enough threats of either bodily harm or acute embarrassment they agreed to be there by 8:30.

Stiles took as long as possible in his shower, then hid the shirt he’d wanted to wear under the bathroom sink. He forced Derek to help him look for it, then made a great show of whining, “I’m going to miss the good sausages.”

Derek took the bait, grabbing his wallet and heading for the door with an eye roll. “I’ll go grab you some now. Hurry up or they’ll get cold.”

Stiles kept up his flustered act until Derek was gone. He knew Derek’s desire to provide for his pack would override his preference to not be near strangers alone. Stiles retrieved his shirt from its hiding place and dressed quickly before the others arrived. Lydia was bang on time, with Jackson trailing behind her. Erica and Boyd came in a few minutes after that looking tired. Isaac was five minutes late.

“You,” Stiles said, rounding on him as he entered the room.

“Me,” Isaac said, rolling his eyes. “Did you expect someone else?”

“Yeah, actually,” Stiles said. “We thought someone might come by to drop off a ransom note.”

The rest of the pack started voicing confused concern while Isaac scoffed. “Come on, Stilinski, like you’ve never hooked up with someone you just met.”

“I don’t care where you put your dick, Lahey,” Stiles said, ignoring Jackson’s groan of disgust. “I thought you were in danger.”

“I wasn’t,” Isaac insisted.

Stiles poked him hard in the chest. “How were we supposed to know that if you didn’t call? Or send a goddamn text, or a smoke signal, even! Do you have any idea what it’s like to sit in a room staring at walls that aren’t your homes, imagining all the ways someone you care about could be injured or dead?”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve spent a night away from the pack,” Isaac said, crossing his arms and stepping out of Stiles’ reach.

“Yeah, but it _is_ the first time you’ve done it when we were out of our territory and surrounded by possible threats.” Stiles grabbed a pillow off the bed and threw it at Isaac’s head. “If you were thinking with your brain instead of your dick, you’d realize how dangerous that could be. We’re here to make allies, but we could just as easily make enemies.”

“You could have texted, Isaac,” Lydia said with a sniff.

“Oh, and as for you lot,” Stiles said, rounding on Lydia. “I’m still pretty pissed at you too.”

“What the hell did we do?” Jackson said.

“Why do you think Derek wanted us all in one room?” Stiles asked. “Hmm?”

“So the pack would be close together,” Erica said.

“That’s right, so the pack could be together as a _unit_. So, as alpha, at the end of the night he could know his pack was safe, even though there are threats everywhere. Threats to our safety, and threats to his status as your alpha,” Stiles said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?" Erica asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s been ditched in search of greener pastures, is it? If you were looking for a new alpha again, this would be a damn good place,” Stiles bit out, and the hurt in Erica’s eyes made him feel like shit.

“That was a long time ago,” Boyd said, taking her hand.

“Yeah, but it still happened,” Stiles said. He rubbed his hands over his face. “I trust you guys, and I believe you care about your pack, but Derek wanted you close and you willfully ignored the request.”

“Lydia--” Erica started.

“Lydia not only disobeyed a direct order, she used Derek’s credit card to fund your romantic get-aways,” Stiles said. “You knew how nervous Derek was about attending, and you went behind his back instead of helping make him comfortable. Did you not think of that?” 

The silence in the room spoke for itself.

“There’s nothing we can do about the rooms now, but you all need to be more supportive,” Stiles said. He looked pointedly at Isaac and added, “And in the future, I don’t care if you’re balls deep in someone, when your alpha wants to know you’re safe, you fucking respond.” 

Isaac winced. “I just got...caught up. She’s really nice.”

“That’s great,” Stiles said gently. “I hope we can meet her. But we were waiting for you.”

“It won’t happen again,” Isaac promised.

“I’ll pay Derek back for the extra rooms,” Lydia said.

“We could all still sleep in here,” Erica offered. “Shove onto the two beds.”

“Nah,” Stiles said. “Too crowded. Just rub yourselves on the sheets a bit, he’ll like that. I’ll see you soon for breakfast.” 

Stiles ducked out of the room just as Jackson started shouting, “Stilinski, you fucker, did you jerk off on this bed?”

***

After breakfast, Stiles went with Derek to the mid-sized boardroom for a workshop. It was the event that Derek had been most interested in, and it required a partner^ so he’d asked Stiles. The summary had included things like “trust,” and “communication,” in it, so Stiles figured it couldn’t hurt.

As soon as they walked in, he saw one of the coordinators at the front of the room frown at them, then turn to her assistant to hiss whispers at her.

“What are they saying?” Stiles asked.

“Can’t tell,” Derek said frowning. “She’s really good at sounding sibilant enough to make it unclear from a distance.”

“Is there a workshop on that?” Stiles half-joked. He didn’t have to wonder about the odd glare for long. They took their seats and the coordinator approached them, her assistant and the leader of the workshop in toe.

“Hi there,” she said offering a hand to Derek. “I’m Elizabeth Lester, Vice Chair.”

“Alpha Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski,” Derek said, indicating Stiles. He noticed that she didn’t bother to offer him a hand. “We’re really looking forward to the workshop.”

“Oh,” the workshop leader, Karen said, with a nervous smile. “How nice of you to say.”

“So you are aware that it’s a workshop,” Elizabeth cut in. “Much more hands on than a lecture.”

“Yes,” Derek said, narrowing his eyes.

“Better to put the theories into practice, right?” Stiles said. 

“Well, yes,” Karen started.

“However, the workshop is specifically geared toward alphas and their seconds,” Elizabeth told them. “Karen’s exercises are for werewolves.”

Stiles could feel Derek tensing beside him, so he turned what Erica called his Bambi eyes on Karen. “I don’t have to leave, do I? We were so excited we got a spot. Derek’s read all your articles. They’ve helped our pack so much.”

Karen’s plump cheeks flushed pink and she stuttered, “Oh, no, of course not! We just might have to adapt the exercises a bit.”

Elizabeth’s pinched expression tightened further, and Stiles beamed at them. Karen patted his shoulder and mumbled something about setting up her powerpoint, then ducked away. Elizabeth followed, shooting a glare over her shoulder. Her assistant scrambled after her looking harried. 

Stiles pulled out his phone and tapped out a message. _You could have warned me._

Derek took the phone, erased the words and typed his own. _They said seconds, they didn’t say werewolves._

Stiles rolled his eyes, but tucked his phone away. He knew Derek didn’t have an official second, but he could have easily brought one of the other wolves. He just wasn’t sure who. 

Even if Scott was here, he and Derek rarely saw eye to eye. They’d learned to use that to their advantage, looking at a problem from different perspectives to solve it, but it didn’t make for great support. Isaac got too nervous to do more than make snarky comments when Derek got irritated. They all knew why, but it didn’t really give Derek the sounding board he needed to work things out. Boyd kept things so close to his chest, he wouldn’t give his opinion on anything. He’d just stay silent while Derek told him what to do, then turn around and do what he wanted. Erica turned everything into an innuendo that made Derek uncomfortable.

Elizabeth brought the room to attention, read off Karen’s biography and welcomed her to the podium with too much false gratitude and a simpering smile.

Karen’s presentation really was interesting, and Stiles was glad Derek had brought him. Some of it could be applied to any team dynamic, but there were some werewolf specific elements that they could either relate to or were interested in trying out. When they moved into the activity portion of the workshop, she instructed them to turn their chairs to face each other, sitting as close as possible. She moved through the group, instructing people to scoot closer or change directions where needed.

Stiles found himself once again surrounded by Karen, Elizabeth, and her hovering assistant. Karen gave him another shoulder pat. “This might be hard for you^ dear, but we’ll think of something.” She lifted her voice to instruct the pack at large. “I want everyone to let their claws out. And now I know this goes against instinct, but give it a try. Rest your claws against your partner's throat. Don’t press or pierce, just rest them there. We’re building mutual trust. You both have the capacity to hurt each other. You refrain because of affection and trust.” 

“You can see how this is really only for werewolves,” Elizabeth started haughtily.

“Easy,” Stiles said, cutting her off. He reached down to his shoe and brought out the tiny switchblade Allison had given him for his last birthday. “Ready, Derek?”

Derek gave a quick nod and rested his claws against Stiles’ neck, while Stiles returned the action using the blade.

Stiles smirked up at Elizabeth. “I’ve been a human among wolves for years. I think I’ve got it covered.”

***

By the time the workshop was over, Elizabeth wouldn’t even look at them, a fake smile plastered on her face as she seethed. Stiles shared a smug look with Derek as they listened to Karen’s closing remarks. 

“I think we should try that last exercise with the pack,” Stiles said.

“You think they’d do it?” Derek asked.

“Nah, but it’d be fun to try. We’ll work them up to it,” Stiles assured him.

“I just wanted to say, you two did wonderfully.” A hand appeared on Derek’s shoulder, attached to a matronly older alpha. “It’s good to see mates communicating so well, even at such a young age.” She gestured to the stout man beside her and said, “We’ve been mated for 53 years, and we always say communication is key.”

Stiles opened his mouth to correct her assumption, but Derek spoke over him. “Thank you. I can only hope we have as many happy years as you.”

The woman responded but Stiles wasn’t listening. He was focused on Derek. Why the hell had he said that? It would have been just as easy to correct her and explain they were only packmates. Then Stiles wouldn’t have to deal with the pain of imagining something that didn’t exist.

Out in the hallway they ran into Brandon and one of his betas. “Would you like to join us for lunch?”

Derek seemed happy enough to agree, but Stiles cut in. “We need to go back to the hotel room, but hopefully we’ll see you at dinner.” 

Derek raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t object, following him up to their room in silence.

“You don’t want to eat with Brandon?’ Derek asked as soon as the door clicked shut.

“Sure, I do. But I need to talk to you first,” Stiles said.

“You’re upset,” Derek said slowly, brow furrowed.

“Yeah, kind of,” Stiles said, giving a full body shrug. “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?” Derek asked, looking genuinely confused.

“You let that lady think we were mates,” Stiles said. “In fact, you encouraged it.”

Stiles watched as Derek slipped on his mask, hiding any real emotion behind vague irritation. “I didn’t realize it would upset you so much. It won’t happen again.”

Stiles dug frustrated fingers into his hair. “We just spent the last two hours talking about the importance of trust and _communication_. Sorry, but I’m not inclined to just let this one go. Telling me you won’t do it again doesn’t tell me why you did it now. Or _how_ you did it, for that matter. I know that whole room was filled with werewolves. Why didn’t she hear a lie?”

“Because if you believe what you’re saying, your heart won’t stutter.” Derek's jaw was so stiff as he reluctantly uttered the words that it took a moment for them to sink in.

Stiles struggled to wrap his brain around it. If Derek _believed_ what he’d said, that meant he wanted years with Stiles. But did that just mean Derek hoped their pack would thrive and grow with Stiles as a part of it? Or did he really mean that he wanted the kind of solid lasting relationship that those two old werewolves had, with _Stiles_? If he was honest with himself, Stiles knew he had always wanted that for them. But he didn’t want to allow himself to hope for it. 

Frustrated, Derek shoved his hands through his hair, tugging as he told him, “I wanted it to be true. I want to have the next five decades of making things work with you. For a minute, I let myself imagine it was possible. I wasn’t thinking, okay?”

Stiles’ heart leaped, then years of conditioned self doubt squashed it down. He squinted at Derek. “Are you making fun of me? Is this a punishment for jacking off in the hotel room? Because you’re the one who showed me those pictures--”

“What? No!” Derek crossed his arms defensively. “That was...It smells more like home now.”

“The smell of my come reminds you of home?” Stiles shook his head, ignoring Derek’s guilty expression. “Nevermind, we’re getting off track. Why isn’t it possible?”

“What do you mean?” Derek asked.

“You said you let yourself _imagine_ it was possible. Like it isn’t. Do you not want...that?” Stiles asked, gesturing vaguely.

“Of course I do,” Derek ground out, glaring at Stiles. “But it’s not that simple.”

Stiles threw up his hands in frustration. “‘Of course,’ he says. ‘Of course,” like it was obvious, when it’s totally not,” Stiles said pacing toward the window. “‘Of course he does’ when he hasn’t given any indication.”

“I gave lots of indication!” Derek said, indignant. “I got you coffee yesterday.”

“You do that for the whole pack,” Stiles said with a touch of bitterness, crossing his arms tightly. “That’s a pack thing, it’s… alpha providing or something.”

“Nope,” Derek said.

“Nope?” Stiles echoed. “You want to elaborate on that?”

Derek gave a frustrated growl and glared at the ceiling. “It’s a providing thing, but it’s not a pack thing. I like the little smirk you get when I bring you stuff. Your scent gets all...spice and sunshine.” Derek gestured vaguely in Stiles’ general direction. 

“So, every time you brought me coffee or food or books, you were declaring your intentions?” Stiles replayed every exchange they’d had for the past…always.

“Not exactly,” Derek said, and Stiles threw a hotel pen at him so he’d keep going. “I like giving you stuff, but I know you aren’t ready for that kind of commitment.”

Stiles scoffed. “Says who?”

“Says you,” Derek returned. “When you were getting ready to leave for school, you kept talking about spreading your wings and exploring your options and stuff. And last year, you dated that girl and she wanted to move in together, but you said you weren’t ready to commit to someone like that.”

“Not someone, _her_. I wasn’t ready to commit to her,” Stiles said. “I’m already committed to _you_.”

Derek stepped a little closer into the room. “You are?”

“Yeah, dumbass. You’re my alpha," Stiles explained. "I’m part of this pack, no matter what. I already decided I’m in it for the long haul. Adding in that kind of relationship with you would strengthen ties that are already there.”

“So, you’d be my mate because we're pack?” Derek asked, wary.

“No. I’d be your mate because I love you.” Derek didn’t reply so Stiles added, “If, you know, that’s on the table.”

“Yeah, that would be-- yeah, me too,” Derek said, taking another step toward Stiles.

“Great,” Stiles said. Silence stretched between them. “So, is this the part where we get to kiss passionately?”

“God, yes.” 

In a flash Derek was right in front of Stiles, tugging him closer by his hips and fitting their mouths together.

Every late night of pack research, every frustrated fight, every moment they’d spent clinging to each other and hoping it wouldn’t be the last time, every quiet evening wrapped up in calm had been pulling them toward this one collision of passion.

A small part of Stiles pointed out that it was a big change, and they should take things slow. The rest of Stiles disagreed wholeheartedly, and that while he hadn’t known Derek felt the same way until moments before, Stiles had been thinking about it for years. So he wasn’t all that surprised that their first kiss continued, and shifted until Stiles was on his back on the bed with Derek on top of him sucking marks into Stiles’ collarbone.

“Derek, take your pants off.” Stiles tugged at Derek’s shirt to rid him of it, but Derek wouldn’t move back long enough to get it off. 

“We should stop,” Derek said. “Everyone will be able to smell it if we do more.”

Stiles shivered and reached up to press the bruise forming on his collarbone. “Good. Then they’ll all know I’m yours.”

Derek growled and replaced Stiles’ fingers with his teeth. “You’d like that?”

“If I’m yours, then you’re mine,” Stiles said. “I’m possessive enough to want to stake my claim.” Stiles managed to push Derek up long enough to get his shirt off, then took advantage of his unstable position to push Derek over onto his back and straddle him. 

It took a fair amount of struggling and swearing to get their clothes off because they didn’t want to separate for long. When they were finally naked, Stiles celebrated by attacking Derek’s mouth and grinding their hips together.

Then his phone rang.

“Fuck, I have to get that,” Stiles said, rolling off to try and find his pants.

“No, just leave it,” Derek said, pulling him back and latching on to Stiles’ shoulder to bite and suck.

Stiles briefly considered agreeing then swore again. “I can’t, I gave the whole pack a lecture this morning about picking up their phones.

Derek pulled back. “When?”

“While you were so graciously acquiring sausages for me because you love me,” Stiles said, shooting a too-bright smile over his shoulder.

Derek sighed and fell back onto the bed. “Get it then, but hurry up.”

Stiles dug his phone out of the pocket of his pants and checked who called, then immediately dialed Erica back. 

“Hey,” she greeted. “You coming for lunch?”

“Oh, um, no, I think we’re gonna grab something later,” Stiles said.

“They have those little mini quiches again,” Erica sing-songed. “Are you sure?”

Stiles debated internally. They really were good quiches, but he had a naked Derek in his bed. The promise of incredible sex won out. “Nah, we’re good.”

He heard Erica curse and then her voice was replaced with Isaac’s. “What are you doing?" Isaac asked suspiciously. "You never turn down food.”

“Okay, first of all, how dare you?” Stiles ignored Derek’s snort behind him. “And second, I’m busy. We’ll catch up with you later.”

“Are you jacking off again?” Isaac hissed.

Stiles winced. “Not exactly.”

Isaac huffed. “What does that mean?”

“It means I would really like to end this conversation and if you happened to find somewhere else to sleep tonight, you’d be a much happier camper and so would I,” Stiles nearly hung up as quickly as he’d spoken, but instead he added, “Also, if you snagged me a few quiches, you’d be my favourite beta.” He heard Erica squawk in the background and hoped it would result in more food.

“Oh, you’re not going to send Derek to get them for you--wait.” Isaac paused. “Are you two--?”

“Okay, Isaac, we’ll see you at the next lecture, buh-bye.” Stiles hung up the phone before he could respond.

Derek’s arm snaked around his waist. “How long until the next lecture?”

“About half an hour?” Stiles said.

Derek hummed. “Better get started then.”

***

Stiles took detailed notes during the afternoon lectures he attended, but the words were going in one ear and out the other. During the first one, he second-guessed everything he and Derek had said and done, and half-convinced himself that Derek would change his mind. The second lecture, he spent stealing glances at Derek, getting caught frequently since Derek was looking too, until Lydia smacked him upside the head and hissed at him to focus.

At dinner, Stiles felt like the bruises on his neck were glowing like a beacon. For the most part, he didn’t mind, but they hadn’t really talked to the pack yet, and they deserved to know first. 

Derek and Stiles grabbed their food--he was starving from missing lunch--and found most of the pack at a table. They sat down and were prepared to wait in silence until Isaac showed up, but Jackson snorted, and said, “Scott owes me fifty bucks.”

“Yeah, well, you owe Boyd 80 dollars,” Erica said.

“For what?” Stiles said.

“We had a detailed betting system on when you two would finally get together,” Lydia said. “Now that you obviously have, it’s time to cash in.”

“Seriously?” Stiles could feel his face burning. “You all knew?”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Was it supposed to be a secret? Honestly, Stiles, you wear your heart on your sleeve, and Derek isn’t much better.”

“It wasn’t that obvious,” Stiles muttered.

Lydia patted his hand. “It really was, but that’s not important. What I want to know is are you just messing around or did you admit how much you care?”

“We wouldn’t risk upsetting the pack just for a quickie,” Stiles said.

Lydia smirked at him. “Then it looks like I get a hundred.”

Erica and Jackson started objecting and trying to get more details, (“Did they say I love you though?” “Does it count if it’s not butt stuff?”), but Stiles tuned them out as Isaac approached the table with a redhead close behind him.

“Derek, do you have a minute?” Isaac asked.

“Sure,” Derek said, standing to greet them.

“This is Matti. Uh, Matilda Hines from the Colt pack in San Diego,” Isaac said. 

“Nice to meet you,” Matti said, offering a hand to shake and respectfully lowering her gaze.

“You as well,” Derek said, then tugged Stiles up. “This is Stiles Stilinski, and I’m sure Isaac can introduce you to the rest of the pack.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize your mate was here,” Matti said, greeting Stiles.

Stiles grinned, pride and pleasure blooming in his chest. “Damn right I am.”

“What?” Isaac said, eyes widening.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Derek promised. “Matilda, would you like to join us?”

The conversation turned away from the recent change in Stiles’ and Derek’s relationship and focused on what the pack had learned that afternoon, the impending end of the conference, and getting to know Matilda.

Isaac’s flame was from a very large pack. She was a social worker, sharing Isaac’s passion for helping young people in bad situations, but the endless needs of the big city were taking their toll. She was deceptively sweet, appearing shy and withdrawn, but after a few volleys with Lydia, it became clear she had a steel core and could easily hold her own.

As the meal came to a close, she turned to Derek, her expression serious. “Alpha Hale, I was hoping to gain your permission to visit your territory. I know I’ve just met Isaac, but I feel we’ve really connected, and I’d like to see where this goes.”

Derek looked to Isaac who gave eager confirmation. Derek smiled politely. “We’d be happy to have you.”

Stiles and Lydia had discussed the possibility of the pack expanding as a result of attending the conference but he hadn’t really thought it would happen, and certainly not like this. Of course, visiting each other's territories was a far cry from happily ever after, but Isaac was clearly interested in Matilda, and Stiles hoped it would work out for them.

Knowing Isaac would be sleeping in her room instead of their own certainly put her on Stiles’ good list.

***

The NWA Conference ended with a formal dinner and dance, referred to by repeat attenders as “The Ball”. Stiles hadn’t been looking forward to it because he hated dressing up and wearing ties. It didn’t matter what Lydia had picked out for him and how well it fit. He always felt like he was dressing up in his dad’s old suit jacket and pretending to be an adult while being slowly choked by silk fabric.

Seeing Derek in a suit almost made it worth it. Dancing with him made Stiles forget his tie completely.

Derek led Stiles off the dancefloor, and Stiles said softly, “We could go back up to our room now. No one would notice.”

“Yes, they would.”

Stiles yelped at the voice behind him and Derek snorted because he was an ass like that. “Hi, Brandon.”

“Hi, Stiles,” Brandon returned with a wink. “I wanted to catch you before you decided to head out. Glad I didn’t wait.” He had a dark wooden box in his hands, and he held it out to Derek. “I wanted you to have this. I had it sent over so you could take it with you.”

Derek accepted the box with a frown and traced his finger over the triskelion carved in the top. “This was Laura’s.”

“Yeah,” Brandon said. “She asked me to keep it safe. I told myself to move on a thousand times, but then I’d look at that box and think there was no way she could leave it behind. It’s good to know she didn’t. Not really^ anyway. I just thought you should have it.”

“Thank you,” Derek said softly.

Brandon clasped Derek’s shoulder. “You were like a brother to me. If you ever need anything…”

“You, too,” Derek said. They each gave a last nod and went their separate ways.

Stiles waited until they were in the hotel room before he asked, “What is that?”

“Laura’s keepsake box,” Derek said. He slid the top off the box. “She put it together before she went to college. Little things to remind her of home so she wouldn’t miss us too much.” He started emptying the contents one item at a time onto the bed. A seashell, a ticket stub, a handmade bracelet, a button, and a flashlight were among the items. Things Stiles knew would have a story behind them. Then there were pictures. Dozens of pictures of people long passed away.

“I don’t have--” Derek gently traced the smile of his baby brother. “None of the pictures in the house made it. I don’t have any.”

“Now you do,” Stiles said. He sat next to Derek on the bed and wrapped an arm around his waist.

“I’d like to tell you about them,” Derek said. “Just not...Not right now.”

“It’s okay,” Stiles said. “We’ve got time.”

***Epilogue***

“Oh, Derek,” Lydia sang as she entered the pack house, and Stiles jerked in surprise before settling again. The whole pack had gotten into the habit of announcing their presence when they visited. Derek was a lot less paranoid at home, and his advanced hearing did them fuckall good when he had Stiles bent over the couch. Scott had never fully recovered from that. 

Today, though, they were just sitting together in the living room, Derek’s fingers in Stiles’ hair while he flipped through the itinerary for this year’s NWA Conference. Stiles had his laptop propped on his knees to research the different speakers as best he could. “Here,” Derek called out to Lydia.

The click of heels on hardwood was quickly muffled by soft rug as she went to perch on her favourite arm chair. “I have our final numbers for who’s going to the conference this year. I also called Brandon, and got his numbers, so we’ll be requesting rooms on the same floor. He said you should call him later to talk about what you're planning to attend.”

“I wanted to call him and ask how his meeting with that neighbouring pack went anyway,” Derek agreed. 

Stiles snapped his fingers and shot a finger gun at Lydia. “Oh, I emailed you a list of alliances we made as a direct result of last year’s conference, I want to give them anniversary cake.”

Lydia arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “You’re getting an anniversary cake for your allies?”

“No, I’m getting an anniversary cake for Derek and me,” Stiles tilted his head up for a kiss. “Love you, baby.”

Derek leaned down for a quick kiss despite the awkward angle. “Isaac and Matilda, too.”

“That’s right!” Stiles grinned. “I always think of theirs as when she moved here. Not that far off.” Matilda fit so well with their pack, it was hard to remember it had only been a year since she’d joined them.

“Everyone in our pack who's going this year is part of a couple,” Lydia said. “So the question is, do you want to share rooms or each book our own?”

Derek went very still, then looked back and forth between Stiles in his lap, and Lydia leering at him from across the room. “Well…”

Stiles laughed at his indecision. “We’ll get adjoining rooms. With the Wyle pack surrounding us, it will feel more secure. And I promise, first thing we do will be get the smell of you and me all over it.”

Derek pushed him off the couch. But when Stiles clamoured right back into his lap, he kissed it better.

“Ew,” Lydia said, scrunching up her nose. 

This time, she booked the rooms like they asked.

*********

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is [Sylvie-W](http://sylvie-w.tumblr.com/) and I’m looking for recommendations on who to follow.


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